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Is your city the next ‘Cop City?’ How police are transforming neighborhoods and poisoning our planet

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Tuesday, June 4, 2024

As climate catastrophe worsens in the US, a disturbing policy trend ensues: expanding prisons and police projects that directly harm the environment and the very communities they claim to serve.Atlanta serves as a prime example, where plans for the controversial “Cop City” training facility involve destroying a crucial watershed – a pattern shadowing lawmakers from New York City to Texas and across the country.Atlanta’s proposed police training complex, dubbed “Cop City” by opponents, means clearing 381 acres of the Weelaunee Forest, a vital watershed for primarily Black neighborhoods. The decision, made in the wake of 2020′s Black Lives Matter protests, has left residents further prone to climate catastrophe.“Forests keep us safe because they soak up heavy rainfall, protecting us from floods,” said Mariah Parker, former Athens-Clarke County commissioner. “Cop city isn’t even built but the destruction of the forest and its replacement with impervious concrete is already putting people in danger.”In this aerial view, a structure sits on land owned by the city of Atlanta, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023, in unincorporated DeKalb County. The Atlanta City Council has approved plans to lease the land to the Atlanta Police Foundation so it can build a state-of-the-art police and firefighter training center, a project that protesters derisively call “Cop City.” (AP Photo/Danny Karnik)APRecent extreme flooding, which Parker and other organizers link deforestation for Cop City, have cast a grim foreshadow. Like the rest of the country, Atlanta faces increasingly hotter years. The removal of the Weelaunee Forest further jeopardizes the Black residents already abandoned by the green energy movement due to redlining.As the deadly effects of climate change continue to sweep across the United States, millions of tax dollars are being poured into building new prisons and police facilities, leaving constituents, especially those of color, vulnerable to environmental catastrophe.A national trend: Prisons vs. the environmentThe pattern of pro-police agendas supersede environmental health and community safety, advocates say.This year, Texas Prison Community Advocates (TPCA) have filed a formal complaint that amends a 2023 lawsuit against the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. The document alleges that temperatures inside cells can have reached as high as 149 degrees Fahrenheit, where prisoners are “cooking to death.” Professor Michele Deitch at the University of Texas Prison and Jail Innovation Lab, warns that such conditions will only worsen with climate change.Alongside noting antiquated piping in prisons, which often lead to water pollution, Deitch noted that several are built on flood plains, those prone to natural disasters.“Many prisons are built near toxic sites,” said Deitch. “It’s not unique to Texas, but they’re built near places where there’s chemical exposures and other kinds of toxins.”Toxic soils threaten New York City’s Chinatown, where the city has approved a 40-story mega jail, part of a borough-based jail to close the notorious Rikers’ Island. Of the five boroughs, Staten Island, majority white and Republican, will not receive a new jail. Soil samples revealed unsafe concentrations of chemicals like benzo anthracene and chrysene, which the CDC said are potentially linked to cancers.Matrix New World Engineering Land Surveying Report, July 2019, on behalf of the New York City Office of Management and Budget and New York City Department of Corrections, page 29New York City Office of Management and Budget[source: Matrix New World Engineering Land Surveying Report, July 2019, on behalf of the New York City Office of Management and Budget and New York City Department of Corrections, page 29]Chinatown advocates like Jan Lee, member of Neighbors United Below Canal, have alleged with documentation that Gramercy Group, the company contracted by the city, failed to adhere to environmental safety procedures and self-report these and worker injuries, as they are compelled to do so by city ordinance. This has caused buildings like the Chung Pak senior center to crack, threatening the lives of all the low-income elderly residents. Lee also predicts that many buildings will also lean towards destabilized areas.Lee and others have demanded that the city pay for an independent monitor of Gramercy Group as well as requested environmental reports without success. New York City’s mayor, former police officer Eric Adams, ran during election season on a platform to deny the building of the jail. After winning the race, he reneged on his promise. He has even nearly doubled the jail budget to $16B, but cut funding for and thus ended the thirty-year community composting program.“Every day that went by for the last five years, this project has increased by four million dollars,” said Lee.The cost of choosing policing over peoplePolice and prisons have resulted in not just a climate toll, but also a human cost.“[The Texas Department of Criminal Justice or TDCJ policy states] that incarcerated individuals can have water whenever they choose to have water and that is not the case,” said Amite Dominick, President of TPCA. “Just because it’s policy doesn’t mean it’s procedure.” In 2023, Texas prisons raised the price of bottled water by 50% from $4.80 to $7.20 per pack. Most incarcerated Texans earn zero dollars for their labor.Without access to air conditioning or water, Texas imprisoned people were described as literally cooking and have resorted to flooding toilets, laying in the unsanitary water or dunking their clothes in it in order to cool off. The impact on mental health is devastating.“One recent study found that days with unsafe heat index levels raised daily violent interactions by 20%,” said Deitch. “Suicide rates go up in the summer.”Atlanta climate advocates also experienced extreme treatment, including the city council’s dismissal of a petition that bolster approximately 116,000 signatures, racketeering and terror charges. Demands have been made for a formal inquiry into the death of Weelaunee Forest advocate Tortuguita, whose legal name is Manuel Paez Terán and who was killed by over 50 bullets after interacting with Georgia state patrol. Police were not wearing body cameras.Facilities like Cop City are now being planned, have been approved, or are already operating in all 50 states except for Wyoming, Vermont, and North Dakota. New York City’s mayor recently announced a cop city for the Queens borough to launch in 2030, and has projected that it will cost at least $225M.Police forces, many collaborating across state lines, have also been deployed against climate activists. Tarah Stangler, an autonomous street medic based in Madison, WI, was one of six hundred arrested during the 2021 Line 3 protests by the Northern Lights Task Force, a police coalition of over sixteen counties that received $750,000 from Canadian oil company Enbridge to secure the pipeline. The oil industry, one of the greatest contributors to the climate crisis, has fueled the prison system, and its predecessor enslavement, in some cases like Louisiana as far back as 1901. Chevron sent a prosecuting climate lawyer to jail after paying $18 billion in damages to Indigenous Ecuador Amazonians. The Canadian Pension Plan Investment Board, with Canadian tax dollars, holds $5.9 million of stock with private prisons Geo Group and Core Civic and invested $186 million in ExxonMobil. Stangler witnessed brutality, experienced pepper spray, even was battered by low-flying helicopters.“[Police] are protecting property over people and focusing on us stopping them rather than stopping the climate catastrophe,” said Stangler. “This is very clear what y’all are here for, and it’s not for us.”Indigenous-led solutions offer a path to decarceration and climate justiceStangler aligned with Indigenous leadership and political thought to solve the linked crises. Indigenous people are held in state and federal prisons at double the national rate and four times that of white people. The incarceration rate between 2000 and 2019 increased by 89%. Across all demographics, 62% returned to prison between 2016-2019.Alaskan Native leader Talia Eames, Recovery Manager at The Central Council of Tlingit and Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska, proposed in 2020 recovery facilities built to resemble traditional multi-generational and multi-family long houses for recently released people to assist in their re-entry into the community. Indigenous legal collectives like the Tribal Defense Office of the Salish and Kootenai Tribes collaborated with the Bronx Defender to adapt their holistic defense as a legal practice.“Providing supportive housing and resources is actually a move for public safety,” Eames to the Juneau Empire in July 2020. “It’s the only way to impact recidivism.”Alongside Native and preventative solutions, Lee in New York City’s Chinatown has called for adaptive reuse instead of the mega jail.“It’s a much more green answer because we are not literally taking two enormous steel-reinforced gigantic jails and putting them into landfills,” said Lee. Although the procedure will most likely save the city billions of dollars and reduce its impact on the climate, the city rejected Lee’s idea.Both Lee and Dominick call for independent monitors in their respective situations. Dominick went even further, believing that the true resolution should come in stages, including setting a legal standard for water, AC units, ensuring that incarcerated people become a protected class, federal standards, until ultimately reducing the number of prisons.“We have too many prisons,” said Dominick. “We need to look at alternatives.”A joint report from the UCLA Luskin School of Public Affairs and Ella Baker Center for Human Rights corroborated Dominick’s assessment, especially the prisons most susceptible to climate change. It notes that people in prisons, especially the elderly and/or with disability, are most susceptible to the climate crisis because of a failure in policy to protect them or create emergency plans during fires, flooding, or other climate emergencies. The revenue saved, in California State’s context $106,000 per year per person, could then be used to fund climate solutions.Activists now face the greatest challenge: convincing elected officials to fund climate solutions and not the climate crisis like prisons and cop cities. Whether through the democratic process or direct democracy, disconnecting money between prisons and environmental catastrophe seems the paramount solution.Winona LaDuke, a Native American climate protector who was also arrested at the Line 3 protests, provides in her book Recovering The Sacred a solution already happening in some Native communities: a shift away from the oil industry and into democratizing the sacred power of wind energy as a means of reclaiming economic power. Such defunding of the oil industry might also catalyze the decline of investment in prisons.“The power of transformation is growing stronger these days,” she writes in the book. “Native American communities are creating momentum for change [...] providing solutions that all of us will need in order to survive the next millennium.”Rohan Zhou-Lee (They/Siya/祂(Tā)/Elle) is a queer/nonbinary Black Asian dancer, writer, and organizer. A 2023 Open City Fellow at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop, they have written for Newsweek, Prism Reports, NextShark, and more. Siya is also the founder of the award-winning Blasian March, a Black-Asian-Blasian grassroots solidarity organization, and for their work has been featured on CNN, NBC Chicago, USA Today, WNYC, and more. Zhou-Lee has spoken on organizing, human rights, and other subjects at New York University, The University of Tokyo, the 2022 Unite and Enough Festivals in Zürich, Switzerland, Harvard University, and more. www.diaryofafirebird.com

Facilities like Cop City are now being planned, have been approved, or are already operating in all 50 states except for Wyoming, Vermont, and North Dakota.

As climate catastrophe worsens in the US, a disturbing policy trend ensues: expanding prisons and police projects that directly harm the environment and the very communities they claim to serve.

Atlanta serves as a prime example, where plans for the controversial “Cop City” training facility involve destroying a crucial watershed – a pattern shadowing lawmakers from New York City to Texas and across the country.

Atlanta’s proposed police training complex, dubbed “Cop City” by opponents, means clearing 381 acres of the Weelaunee Forest, a vital watershed for primarily Black neighborhoods. The decision, made in the wake of 2020′s Black Lives Matter protests, has left residents further prone to climate catastrophe.

“Forests keep us safe because they soak up heavy rainfall, protecting us from floods,” said Mariah Parker, former Athens-Clarke County commissioner. “Cop city isn’t even built but the destruction of the forest and its replacement with impervious concrete is already putting people in danger.”

Trooper Shot Atlanta Activist Death

In this aerial view, a structure sits on land owned by the city of Atlanta, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023, in unincorporated DeKalb County. The Atlanta City Council has approved plans to lease the land to the Atlanta Police Foundation so it can build a state-of-the-art police and firefighter training center, a project that protesters derisively call “Cop City.” (AP Photo/Danny Karnik)AP

Recent extreme flooding, which Parker and other organizers link deforestation for Cop City, have cast a grim foreshadow. Like the rest of the country, Atlanta faces increasingly hotter years. The removal of the Weelaunee Forest further jeopardizes the Black residents already abandoned by the green energy movement due to redlining.

As the deadly effects of climate change continue to sweep across the United States, millions of tax dollars are being poured into building new prisons and police facilities, leaving constituents, especially those of color, vulnerable to environmental catastrophe.

A national trend: Prisons vs. the environment

The pattern of pro-police agendas supersede environmental health and community safety, advocates say.

This year, Texas Prison Community Advocates (TPCA) have filed a formal complaint that amends a 2023 lawsuit against the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. The document alleges that temperatures inside cells can have reached as high as 149 degrees Fahrenheit, where prisoners are “cooking to death.” Professor Michele Deitch at the University of Texas Prison and Jail Innovation Lab, warns that such conditions will only worsen with climate change.

Alongside noting antiquated piping in prisons, which often lead to water pollution, Deitch noted that several are built on flood plains, those prone to natural disasters.

“Many prisons are built near toxic sites,” said Deitch. “It’s not unique to Texas, but they’re built near places where there’s chemical exposures and other kinds of toxins.”

Toxic soils threaten New York City’s Chinatown, where the city has approved a 40-story mega jail, part of a borough-based jail to close the notorious Rikers’ Island. Of the five boroughs, Staten Island, majority white and Republican, will not receive a new jail. Soil samples revealed unsafe concentrations of chemicals like benzo anthracene and chrysene, which the CDC said are potentially linked to cancers.

Cop City vs everyone

Matrix New World Engineering Land Surveying Report, July 2019, on behalf of the New York City Office of Management and Budget and New York City Department of Corrections, page 29New York City Office of Management and Budget

[source: Matrix New World Engineering Land Surveying Report, July 2019, on behalf of the New York City Office of Management and Budget and New York City Department of Corrections, page 29]

Chinatown advocates like Jan Lee, member of Neighbors United Below Canal, have alleged with documentation that Gramercy Group, the company contracted by the city, failed to adhere to environmental safety procedures and self-report these and worker injuries, as they are compelled to do so by city ordinance. This has caused buildings like the Chung Pak senior center to crack, threatening the lives of all the low-income elderly residents. Lee also predicts that many buildings will also lean towards destabilized areas.

Lee and others have demanded that the city pay for an independent monitor of Gramercy Group as well as requested environmental reports without success. New York City’s mayor, former police officer Eric Adams, ran during election season on a platform to deny the building of the jail. After winning the race, he reneged on his promise. He has even nearly doubled the jail budget to $16B, but cut funding for and thus ended the thirty-year community composting program.

“Every day that went by for the last five years, this project has increased by four million dollars,” said Lee.

The cost of choosing policing over people

Police and prisons have resulted in not just a climate toll, but also a human cost.

“[The Texas Department of Criminal Justice or TDCJ policy states] that incarcerated individuals can have water whenever they choose to have water and that is not the case,” said Amite Dominick, President of TPCA. “Just because it’s policy doesn’t mean it’s procedure.” In 2023, Texas prisons raised the price of bottled water by 50% from $4.80 to $7.20 per pack. Most incarcerated Texans earn zero dollars for their labor.

Without access to air conditioning or water, Texas imprisoned people were described as literally cooking and have resorted to flooding toilets, laying in the unsanitary water or dunking their clothes in it in order to cool off. The impact on mental health is devastating.

One recent study found that days with unsafe heat index levels raised daily violent interactions by 20%,” said Deitch. “Suicide rates go up in the summer.”

Atlanta climate advocates also experienced extreme treatment, including the city council’s dismissal of a petition that bolster approximately 116,000 signatures, racketeering and terror charges. Demands have been made for a formal inquiry into the death of Weelaunee Forest advocate Tortuguita, whose legal name is Manuel Paez Terán and who was killed by over 50 bullets after interacting with Georgia state patrol. Police were not wearing body cameras.

Facilities like Cop City are now being planned, have been approved, or are already operating in all 50 states except for Wyoming, Vermont, and North Dakota. New York City’s mayor recently announced a cop city for the Queens borough to launch in 2030, and has projected that it will cost at least $225M.

Police forces, many collaborating across state lines, have also been deployed against climate activists. Tarah Stangler, an autonomous street medic based in Madison, WI, was one of six hundred arrested during the 2021 Line 3 protests by the Northern Lights Task Force, a police coalition of over sixteen counties that received $750,000 from Canadian oil company Enbridge to secure the pipeline. The oil industry, one of the greatest contributors to the climate crisis, has fueled the prison system, and its predecessor enslavement, in some cases like Louisiana as far back as 1901. Chevron sent a prosecuting climate lawyer to jail after paying $18 billion in damages to Indigenous Ecuador Amazonians. The Canadian Pension Plan Investment Board, with Canadian tax dollars, holds $5.9 million of stock with private prisons Geo Group and Core Civic and invested $186 million in ExxonMobil. Stangler witnessed brutality, experienced pepper spray, even was battered by low-flying helicopters.

“[Police] are protecting property over people and focusing on us stopping them rather than stopping the climate catastrophe,” said Stangler. “This is very clear what y’all are here for, and it’s not for us.”

Indigenous-led solutions offer a path to decarceration and climate justice

Stangler aligned with Indigenous leadership and political thought to solve the linked crises. Indigenous people are held in state and federal prisons at double the national rate and four times that of white people. The incarceration rate between 2000 and 2019 increased by 89%. Across all demographics, 62% returned to prison between 2016-2019.

Alaskan Native leader Talia Eames, Recovery Manager at The Central Council of Tlingit and Haida Indian Tribes of Alaska, proposed in 2020 recovery facilities built to resemble traditional multi-generational and multi-family long houses for recently released people to assist in their re-entry into the community. Indigenous legal collectives like the Tribal Defense Office of the Salish and Kootenai Tribes collaborated with the Bronx Defender to adapt their holistic defense as a legal practice.

“Providing supportive housing and resources is actually a move for public safety,” Eames to the Juneau Empire in July 2020. “It’s the only way to impact recidivism.”

Alongside Native and preventative solutions, Lee in New York City’s Chinatown has called for adaptive reuse instead of the mega jail.

“It’s a much more green answer because we are not literally taking two enormous steel-reinforced gigantic jails and putting them into landfills,” said Lee. Although the procedure will most likely save the city billions of dollars and reduce its impact on the climate, the city rejected Lee’s idea.

Both Lee and Dominick call for independent monitors in their respective situations. Dominick went even further, believing that the true resolution should come in stages, including setting a legal standard for water, AC units, ensuring that incarcerated people become a protected class, federal standards, until ultimately reducing the number of prisons.

“We have too many prisons,” said Dominick. “We need to look at alternatives.”

A joint report from the UCLA Luskin School of Public Affairs and Ella Baker Center for Human Rights corroborated Dominick’s assessment, especially the prisons most susceptible to climate change. It notes that people in prisons, especially the elderly and/or with disability, are most susceptible to the climate crisis because of a failure in policy to protect them or create emergency plans during fires, flooding, or other climate emergencies. The revenue saved, in California State’s context $106,000 per year per person, could then be used to fund climate solutions.

Activists now face the greatest challenge: convincing elected officials to fund climate solutions and not the climate crisis like prisons and cop cities. Whether through the democratic process or direct democracy, disconnecting money between prisons and environmental catastrophe seems the paramount solution.

Winona LaDuke, a Native American climate protector who was also arrested at the Line 3 protests, provides in her book Recovering The Sacred a solution already happening in some Native communities: a shift away from the oil industry and into democratizing the sacred power of wind energy as a means of reclaiming economic power. Such defunding of the oil industry might also catalyze the decline of investment in prisons.

“The power of transformation is growing stronger these days,” she writes in the book. “Native American communities are creating momentum for change [...] providing solutions that all of us will need in order to survive the next millennium.”

Rohan Zhou-Lee (They/Siya/祂(Tā)/Elle) is a queer/nonbinary Black Asian dancer, writer, and organizer. A 2023 Open City Fellow at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop, they have written for Newsweek, Prism Reports, NextShark, and more. Siya is also the founder of the award-winning Blasian March, a Black-Asian-Blasian grassroots solidarity organization, and for their work has been featured on CNNNBC ChicagoUSA TodayWNYC, and more. Zhou-Lee has spoken on organizing, human rights, and other subjects at New York University, The University of Tokyo, the 2022 Unite and Enough Festivals in Zürich, Switzerland, Harvard University, and more. www.diaryofafirebird.com

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Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment

Environmental activists in Costa Rica continue to face escalating threats, harassment, and legal intimidation as they challenge projects that harm ecosystems. Groups report a systematic pattern of repression, including public stigmatization, digital attacks, and abusive lawsuits meant to exhaust resources and silence opposition. In Puntarenas, billboards have appeared labeling local defenders as “persona non grata,” […] The post Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Environmental activists in Costa Rica continue to face escalating threats, harassment, and legal intimidation as they challenge projects that harm ecosystems. Groups report a systematic pattern of repression, including public stigmatization, digital attacks, and abusive lawsuits meant to exhaust resources and silence opposition. In Puntarenas, billboards have appeared labeling local defenders as “persona non grata,” a form of symbolic violence that isolates activists in their communities. Similar tactics include online campaigns spreading disinformation and gendered threats, particularly against women who speak out against coastal developments or illegal logging. Legal actions add another layer of pressure. Developers have sued content creators for posting videos that question the environmental impact of tourism projects, claiming defamation or false information. Organizations identify these as SLAPP suits—strategic lawsuits against public participation—designed to drain time and money through lengthy court processes rather than seek genuine redress. In recent cases, bank accounts have been frozen, forcing individuals to halt their work. The Federation for Environmental Conservation (FECON), Bloque Verde, and other groups link these incidents to broader institutional changes. The State of the Nation Report released this month documents sustained weakening of environmental bodies. Budget cuts and staff reductions at the Ministry of Environment and Energy (MINAE) and the National System of Conservation Areas (SINAC) have left larger protected areas with fewer resources. Policy shifts concentrate decision-making power while reducing scientific and community input. Activists argue this dismantling exposes water sources, forests, and biodiversity to greater risks. They point to rapid coastal development in areas like Guanacaste, where unplanned tourism strains wetlands and mangroves. Indigenous communities and rural defenders face added vulnerabilities, with reports of death threats tied to land recovery efforts. These pressures coincide with debates over resource extraction and regulatory rollbacks. Environmental organizations stress that protecting nature supports public health, jobs in sustainable tourism, and democratic rights. They maintain that freedom of expression and participation remain essential for holding projects accountable. Without stronger safeguards for defenders and reversal of institutional decline, groups warn that Costa Rica risks undermining its conservation achievements. They call for protocols to address threats, anti-SLAPP measures, and renewed commitment to environmental governance. Defending ecosystems, they say, equals defending the country’s future stability and justice. The post Costa Rica Environmentalists Face Rising Threats and Harassment appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Is AI being shoved down your throat at work? Here’s how to fight back.

Your Mileage May Vary is an advice column offering you a unique framework for thinking through your moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism, the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. To submit a question, fill out this anonymous form. Here’s this week’s question from a […]

Is it possible to fight against the integration of AI in the workplace? Your Mileage May Vary is an advice column offering you a unique framework for thinking through your moral dilemmas. It’s based on value pluralism, the idea that each of us has multiple values that are equally valid but that often conflict with each other. To submit a question, fill out this anonymous form. Here’s this week’s question from a reader, condensed and edited for clarity. I’m an AI engineer working at a medium-sized ad agency, mostly on non-generative machine learning models (think ad performance prediction, not ad creation). Lately, it feels like people, specifically senior and mid-level managers who do not have engineering experience, are pushing the adoption and development of various AI tools. Honestly, it feels like an unthinking melee. I consider myself a conscientious objector to the use of AI, especially generative AI; I’m not fully opposed to it, but I constantly ask who actually benefits from the application of AI and what its financial, human, and environmental costs are beyond what is right in front of our noses. Yet, as a rank-and-file employee, I find myself with no real avenue to relay those concerns to people who have actual power to decide. Worse, I feel that even voicing such concerns, admittedly running against the almost blind optimism that I assume affects most marketing companies, is turning me into a pariah in my own workplace. So my question is this: Considering the difficulty of finding good jobs in AI, is it “worth it” trying to encourage critical AI use in my company, or should I tone it down if only to keep paying the bills? Dear Conscientious Objector, You’re definitely not alone in hating the uncritical rollout of generative AI. Lots of people hate it, from artists, to coders, to students. I bet there are people in your own company who hate it, too. But they’re not speaking up — and, of course, there’s a reason for that: They’re afraid to lose their jobs. Honestly, it’s a fair concern. And it’s the reason why I’m not going to advise you to stick your neck out and fight this crusade alone. If you as an individual object to your company’s AI use, you become legible to the company as a “problem” employee. There could be consequences to that, and I don’t want to see you lose your paycheck.  But I also don’t want to see you lose your moral integrity. You’re absolutely right to constantly ask who actually benefits from the unthinking application of AI and whether the benefits outweigh the costs.  So, I think you should fight for what you believe in — but fight as part of a collective. The real question here is not, “Should you voice your concerns about AI or stay quiet?” It’s, “How can you build solidarity with others who want to be part of a resistance movement with you?” Teaming up is both safer for you as an employee and more likely to have an impact. “The most important thing an individual can do is be somewhat less of an individual,” the environmentalist Bill McKibben once said. “Join together with others in movements large enough to have some chance at changing those political and economic ground rules that keep us locked on this current path.” Now, you know what word I’m about to say next, right? Unionize. If your workplace can be organized, that’ll be a key strategy for allowing you to fight AI policies you disagree with. If you need a bit of inspiration, look at what some labor unions have already achieved — from the Writers Guild of America, which won important protections around AI for Hollywood writers, to the Service Employees International Union, which negotiated with Pennsylvania’s governor to create a worker board overseeing the implementation of generative AI in government services. Meanwhile, this year saw thousands of nurses marching in the streets as National Nurses United pushed for the right to determine how AI does and doesn’t get used in patient interactions. “There’s a whole range of different examples where unions have been able to really be on the front foot in setting the terms for how AI gets used — and whether it gets used at all,” Sarah Myers West, co-executive director of the AI Now Institute, told me recently. If it’s too hard to get a union off the ground at your workplace, there are plenty of organizations you can join forces with. Check out the Algorithmic Justice League or Fight for the Future, which push for equitable and accountable tech. There are also grassroots groups like Stop Gen AI, which aims to organize both a resistance movement and a mutual aid program to help those who’ve lost work due to the AI rollout. You can also consider hyperlocal efforts, which have the benefit of creating community. One of the big ways those are showing up right now is in the fight against the massive buildout of energy-hungry data centers meant to power the AI boom.  “It’s where we have seen many people fighting back in their communities — and winning,” Myers West told me. “They’re fighting on behalf of their own communities, and working collectively and strategically to say, ‘We’re being handed a really raw deal here. And if you [the companies] are going to accrue all the benefits from this technology, you need to be accountable to the people on whom it’s being used.’” Already, local activists have blocked or delayed $64 billion worth of data center projects across the US, according to a study by Data Center Watch, a project run by AI research firm 10a Labs. Yes, some of those data centers may eventually get built anyway. Yes, fighting the uncritical adoption of AI can sometimes feel like you’re up against an undefeatable behemoth. But it helps to preempt discouragement if you take a step back to think about what it really looks like when social change is happening. In a new book, Somebody Should Do Something, three philosophers — Michael Brownstein, Alex Madva, and Daniel Kelly — show how anyone can help create social change. The key, they argue, is to realize that when we join forces with others, our actions can lead to butterfly effects:  Minor actions can set off cascades that lead, in a surprisingly short time, to major structural outcomes. This reflects a general feature of complex systems. Causal effects in such systems don’t always build on each other in a smooth or continuous way. Sometimes they build nonlinearly, allowing seemingly small events to produce disproportionately large changes.  The authors explain that, because society is a complex system, your actions aren’t a meaningless “drop in the bucket.” Adding water to a bucket is linear; each drop has equal impact. Complex systems behave more like heating water: Not every degree has the same effect, and the shift from 99°C to 100°C crosses a tipping point that triggers a phase change.  We all know the boiling point of water, but we don’t know the tipping point for changes in the social world. That means it’s going to be hard for you to tell, at any given moment, how close you are to creating a cascade of change. But that doesn’t mean change is not happening.  According to Harvard political scientist Erica Chenoweth’s research, if you want to achieve systemic social change, you need to mobilize 3.5 percent of the population around your cause. Though we have not yet seen AI-related protests on that scale, we do have data indicating the potential for a broad base. A full 50 percent of Americans are more concerned than excited about the rise of AI in daily life, according to a recent survey from the Pew Research Center. And 73 percent support robust regulation of AI, according to the Future of Life Institute.  So, even though you might feel alone in your workplace, there are people out there who share your concerns. Find your teammates. Come up with a positive vision for the future of tech. Then, fight for the future you want. Bonus: What I’m reading Microsoft’s announcement that it wants to build “humanist superintelligence” caught my eye. Whether you think that’s an oxymoron or not, I take it as a sign that at least some of the powerful players hear us when we say we want AI that solves real concrete problems for real flesh-and-blood people — not some fanciful AI god.  The Economist article “Meet the real screen addicts: the elderly” is so spot-on. When it comes to digital media, everyone is always worrying about The Youth, but I think not enough research has been devoted to the elderly, who are often positively glued to their devices.  Hallelujah, some AI researchers are finally adopting a pragmatic approach to the whole, “Can AI be conscious?” debate! I’ve long suspected that “conscious” is a pragmatic tool we use as a way of saying, “This thing should be in our moral circle,” so whether AI is conscious isn’t something we’ll discover — it’s something we’ll decide. 

Yurok tribal attorney chronicles family’s fight to save the Klamath River and a way of life

"Treat the earth, not as a resource, but as a relative," said Ashland resident Amy Bowers Cordalis, who has written a memoir about her family's generations-long efforts for the river that now flows freely.

As a University of Oregon student focused on politics and the environment, Amy Bowers Cordalis had every right to feel defeated in 2002 when she returned home and saw evidence of the largest salmon kill in the Klamath River.The lifelong fisherwoman and member of the Yurok Tribe learned the cause was avoidable: A federal order diverted water just as salmon were spawning. For generations, destructive dams, logging, mining and development had already impacted the ecosystem of the Klamath River, which once had the third largest salmon runs in all of the lower continental United States. Cordalis, then 22, decided to change course while she was in her boat, surveying the depth of the salmon die off.Now 45, the Ashland attorney, activist and environmental defender serves on the front lines of conservation. As lead lawyer for the Yurok Tribe, she was present at the signing of the agreement that in 2024 resulted in the Klamath River flowing freely from southern Oregon to Northern California for the first time in a century.The dismantling of four hydroelectric dams that had impacted ancestral lands, altered the ecology, degraded the water quality and disrupted once-prolific salmon runs is considered the world’s largest dam removal project.A month after the last dam was demolished, thousands of salmon, a cornerstone species for overall ecological health, began repopulating. “The salmon have come home,” Cordalis said. “We are starting to move back into balance.”In her just-released memoir, “The Water Remembers: My Indigenous Family’s Fight to Save a River and a Way of Life,” Cordalis tells the story of her family’s multigenerational struggle to protect the Klamath River and their legal successes to preserve the Yurok people’s sustainable relationship with nature. In 1973, her great-uncle Aawok Raymond Mattz forced the landmark Supreme Court case reaffirming the Yurok Tribe’s rights to land, water, fish and sovereignty. Cordalis devotes a chapter of her memoir to her great-grandmother Geneva’s protests in the 1970s, inspired by the Civil Rights movement, to end the Salmon Wars, the government’s crackdowns on tribal fishing rights.In 2019, Cordalis led the effort for the Yurok people to declare personhood rights for the Klamath River. For the first time, a North American river has legal right to flourish, free from human-caused climate change impacts and contamination.She also worked for the Yurok people to recover 73 square miles along the eastern side of the lower Klamath River, now known as Blue Creek Salmon Sanctuary and Yurok Tribal Community Forest.The area, logged for a century, was acquired over time by the environmental nonprofit Western Rivers Conservancy for $56 million. The transfer to the Yurok people in June is the largest single “land back” deal in California history.Cordalis continues to litigate to protect the rights of Indigenous people and the natural and cultural resources that are part of their identity and sovereignty. That includes salmon. She still works to save coho salmon, a listed Endangered Species Act species on the Klamath River. Through her former work as Yurok general counsel and an attorney at the Native American Rights Fund, and since 2020 as the executive director of the Ridges to Riffles Indigenous Conservation Group, Cordalis’ message is clear: Respect the earth. Listen to the rivers, protect the land.Treat the earth, Cordalis said, not as a resource, but as a relative. Changing courseAmy Bowers Cordalis and her siblings gillnet fishing at Brooks Riffle, Klamath River, 2023Little, Brown and CompanyIn 2002, Cordalis spent her summer break from college interning for Yurok Fisheries Department near her family’s ancestral home in the Northern California village of Rek-Woi.That September, she witnessed the salmon kill. Water diverted upstream to farmers and ranchers by federal orders had lowered the river flows, increased the water temperature and allowed diseases to spread to spawning salmon.Cordalis saw the salmon kill as ecocide, the end of a way of life for the Yurok people and destruction of their principles of respect, responsibility and reciprocity with all of creation. She vowed to fight through the courts, as her family had in the past. She earned a law degree at the University of Denver’s Sturm College of Law and became the Yurok Tribe’s general counsel.In 2020, she and other representatives of Native American communities with historic ties to the Klamath River faced the owner of the four hydroelectric dams: Berkshire Hathaway, one of the biggest and best known U.S. conglomerates.Its subsidiary, Berkshire Hathaway Energy, owns PacifiCorp, which operated the four Klamath River dams.The Indigenous-led coalition told the energy holding company’s executives they would never stop fighting for the river’s restoration. The meeting took place at Blue Creek, one of the most important tributaries on the Lower Klamath River and a salmon sanctuary with spiritual significance, recently returned to the Yurok Tribe.The coalition handed the executives a document that outlined the key terms and conditions of their proposed agreement. They talked about their proposal and then let the river speak for itself, according to Cordalis.The next business day, both parties were in discussion. In the end, the $550 million agreement to dismantle the aging dams cost less than it would to upgrade them to meet modern environmental standards.Cordalis said that the dam removal, one of the largest nature-based solution projects in the world thus far, can be replicated for environmental and economic gain.“When we choose to work together toward sustainability, we can create different outcomes that are better for the planet, better for people,” Cordalis said. “We don’t have to accept that the only path to prosperity is industrializing nature,” she said. “We can adjust our practices, find nature-based solutions” and continue to enjoy a modern lifestyle, while working to heal nature.This is a historic time, she said.“We are at a tipping point and what we do matters,” she said. Clean air and water, and natural, nutritious food are needed for life to survive.Ripple effects Cordalis’ work and motivations are captured in the 2024 Patagonia Films documentary, “Undammed: Amy Bowers Cordalis and the fight to free the Klamath,” which plays on a screen inside the Yurok Country Visitor Center in downtown Klamath, a small coastal city in California.Cordalis has been recognized by various groups for her involvement with the largest river restoration project in history. She received the United Nation’s highest environmental honor, UN Champion of the Earth, and was named 2024 Time magazine’s 100 most influential climate leaders. In October, she was announced as one of 10 change makers in the 20th L’Oreal Paris Women of Worth philanthropic program.The $25,000 award, given for her climate action work that fuses law, policy and Indigenous knowledge, will help Ridges to Riffles Indigenous Conservation Group, the nonprofit she co-founded in 2022 with Karuk Tribal member Molli Myers, continue to work on life-changing restoration projects. “The L’Oreal Paris Woman of Worth award is a tremendous opportunity because it will uplift our work and expand our partnerships,” Cordalis said. “The power of being in partnership, collaborating and combining resources and efforts, expands and strengthens the scope of all of our work.”She said one of her greatest joys is hearing about people restoring nature in their community and the worldwide “ripple effects” of those efforts.Cordalis titled her book “The Water Remembers” because the river and people remember the salmon. “We have ancestral knowledge about what it was like to live on a healthy planet,” she said. When the Klamath River’s ecosystem started collapsing, “that put us into this culture of scarcity,” she said. “Rebuilding ecosystem resiliency lets us recover from the colonial period and move toward a culture of abundance.”Today, tribal members are restoring the Klamath River’s almost 400 miles of historic salmon spawning habitat. Revegetation efforts include hand planting native seeds, trees, shrubs and grasses. “When we rebuild salmon runs, we help the ocean, the river, humans and all the creatures who are dependent upon the salmon,” Cordalis said.She writes in her book that the Yurok people are observing the river healing by spending time on it, listening to it.“And when we start using nature-based solutions to restore ecosystems those solutions work their magic,” she said, “and the salmon come home in a blink of an eye.”If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. 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COP30 has big plans to save the rainforest. Indigenous activists say it’s not enough

“We need the government to recognize our climate authority and our role as guardians of biodiversity.”

On Friday, at least 100 Indigenous protestors blocked the entrance to the 30th Annual United Nations Climate Change Conference, or COP30, in Belém, Brazil. The action comes on the heels of an action earlier this week when hundreds of Indigenous peoples marched into the conference, clashing with security, and pushing their way through metal detectors while calling on negotiators to protect their lands. These actions brought Indigenous voices to the front steps of this year’s global climate summit — where discussions now, and historically, have generally excluded Indigenous peoples and perspectives. World leaders have attempted to acknowledge this omission: Brazil’s president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said Indigenous voices should “inspire” COP30, and the host country announced two new plans to protect tropical forests and enshrine Indigenous people’s land rights. But demonstrations like this week’s show even these measures are designed with little input from those affected, garnering criticism. Preserving the Amazon rainforest is critical to mitigating climate change and protecting biodiversity. How this is done is one of the key issues being raised at COP30. Upon the kickoff of the conference, Brazil announced the Tropical Forests Forever Facility, or TFFF, part of a plan to create new financial incentives to protect tropical forest lands in as many as 74 countries, including its own.  The Tropical Forests Forever Facility has been touted as one of Brazil’s new marquee policies for combating the climate crisis. It also potentially represents an opportunity for Brazil to position itself as a leader on environmental conservation and Indigenous rights. The country has had a historically poor track record on rainforest conservation: By some estimates, 13 percent of the original Amazon forest has been lost to deforestation. In Brazil, much of that happens because of industrial agriculture — specifically, cattle ranching and soy production. Research has shown 70 percent of Amazon land cleared is used for cattle pastures. Brazil is the world’s lead exporter of beef and soy, with China as its top consumer for both products.  The TFFF marks an attempt to flip the economics of extractive industry — by paying governments every year their deforestation rate is 0.5 percent or lower. It also attempts to highlight the role Indigenous communities already play in stewarding these lands, although critics say it does not go far enough on either goal.  Under the TFFF, which will be hosted by the World Bank, Brazil seeks to raise $25 billion in investments from other countries as well as philanthropic organizations — and then take that money and grow it four-fold in the bond market. The goal is to create a $125 billion investment fund to be used to reward governments for preserving their standing tropical forest lands. One condition of receiving this funding is that governments must then pass on 20 percent to Indigenous people and local communities. Security personnel clash with Indigenous people and students as they storm the venue during COP30 in Belem, Para State, Brazil, on November 11, 2025. Olga Leiria / AFP via Getty Images The idea underlying the fund is that the TFFF could make leaving tropical forests alone more financially lucrative than tearing them down. In the global climate finance market, there aren’t currently any mechanisms that value “tropical forests and rainforests as the global public good that they are,” said Toerris Jaeger, director of the Rainforest Foundation Norway. These ecosystems “need to be maintained and maintained standing and that is what TFFF does,” he added. But critics say that TFFF merely represents another attempt to tie the value of these critical ecosystems to financial markets. “You cannot put a price on a conserved forest because life cannot be measured, and the Amazon is life for the thousands of beings who inhabit it and depend on it to exist,” said Toya Manchineri, an Indigenous leader from the Manchineri people of Brazil. Manchineri is also the general coordinator of the Coordination of Indigenous Organizations of the Brazilian Amazon. He added that setting aside 20 percent of TFFF funds for Indigenous communities is a good start, but that figure could be much higher.  Other COP30 attendees have criticized the plan for trying to fight the profit-driven industries that lead to deforestation with a profit motive. “The TFFF isn’t a climate proposal, but it’s another false solution to the planetary crises of biodiversity loss, forest loss, and climate collapse,” said Mary Lou Malig, policy director of the Global Forest Coalition. “It’s another way to profit off the problems that these same actors like the big banks and powerful governments and corporations actually created.”  But the performance of the TFFF is contingent on market fluctuations, risk, and the global economy’s health each year. How much governments — and Indigenous peoples — receive each year depends on how well the market does that year.  Manchineri added that the global climate policy to protect tropical forests should do more to recognize the role that Indigenous peoples play in defending it from illegal land grabs that drive deforestation. These communities “will continue to protect” the rainforest, said Manchineri, “with or without a fund. But we need the government to recognize our climate authority and our role as guardians of biodiversity.”  Prior to COP30, Brazil and nine other tropical countries joined the Intergovernmental Land Tenure Commitment, or ILTC, a global initiative to recognize Indigenous land tenure and rights to defend against deforestation and provide a potential backstop on the ground to support efforts like the TFFF. According to Juan Carlos Jintiach, the executive secretary of the Global Alliance of Territorial Communities, this commitment and the accompanying $1.8 billion Forest and Land Tenure Pledge that will support these land recognition efforts are “most welcome.” However, meaningful progress among participating countries entails establishing monitoring instruments that account for and ensure Indigenous peoples see the funds and see their rights recognized.  “We cannot have climate adaptation, climate mitigation, or climate justice without territorial land rights and the recognition and demarcation of indigenous territory,” said Zimyl Adler, a senior policy advocate on forests, land, and climate finance at Friends of the Earth U.S.  But evidence of that recognition is scarce. Under the Paris Agreement, signatory states are required to submit climate action plans called Nationally Determined Contributions, or NDCs. A recent report from global experts that reviewed NDCs from 85 countries found that only 20 of those countries referenced the rights of Indigenous peoples and that only five mentioned Free, Prior, and Informed Consent — an international consultation principle that allows Indigenous Peoples to provide, withhold, or withdraw their consent at any time in projects that impact their communities or territories.  “It was a real missed opportunity to strengthen those commitments to land rights and tenure,” said Kate Dooley, a researcher at the University of Melbourne and an author of the Land Gap report.  As the conference will continue for another week, the protests have raised questions about the distinction between climate talks and action, and whether this year’s COP will translate into the latter for Indigenous communities who see deforestation and weak land tenure rights as immediate threats to their lives and homes.  “We don’t eat money. We want our territory free,” said Cacique Gilson, a Tupinmbá leader who participated in one protest. “But the business of oil exploration, mineral exploitation, and logging continues.”  This story was originally published by Grist with the headline COP30 has big plans to save the rainforest. Indigenous activists say it’s not enough on Nov 14, 2025.

This massive power line was supposed to help Oregon residents. Now it'll likely serve a data center

The 300-mile B2H transmission project was approved to benefit hundreds of thousands of Oregon residents but will now will likely serve a data center

The Oregon Public Utility Commission has reaffirmed its approval of a nearly 300-mile electrical transmission line that’s set to run from Idaho and carry power across five Oregon counties – despite concerns it will primarily serve a private data center rather than the public.The commission on Thursday declined to rescind a certificate that authorizes Idaho Power, the developer and co-owner of the Boardman-to-Hemingway project – B2H for short – to seize private land via eminent domain. Regulators maintained the line remains in the public interest. The decision came in response to a petition filed this summer by the nonprofit Stop B2H Coalition and its co-chair, Irene Gilbert, a retired government employee who has challenged the project for years over its impact on Oregon’s rural landscapes.The petition said the certificate should be revoked because PacifiCorp, the transmission line’s co-owner, suddenly switched plans and told regulators this spring it no longer intends to sell power from the line to Oregon customers but rather to a private industrial user. The utility has declined to confirm the customer is a data center. But the power-hungry facilities have been expanding rapidly in Eastern Oregon, and few other businesses demand the amount of energy the new transmission line would carry. Gilbert and her coalition argued on Thursday that the change in plans constitutes “the abuse of eminent domain” and that “fundamental public purpose has been abandoned for private gain.” The commission had issued the certificate in 2023 because PacifiCorp – which owns 55% of the Boardman-to-Hemingway transmission line – had demonstrated the line would serve its 805,000 customers – including the 620,000 customers in Oregon, most of them on the west side of the state. It would also boost the utility’s transmission capacity between its eastern and western service regions, which encompass six states.The utility had previously told regulators that the line would decrease customer costs by about $1.7 billion through 2042 by allowing it to move more power with greater efficiency.This spring, however, the utility suddenly announced it had changed course. It told regulators it would not be able to send the power west to its Oregon customers because it was unable to procure firm transmission rights from the Bonneville Power Administration due to delays in that agency’s transmission development process. Instead, it said it would sell the power to an industrial customer. “Allowing a project justified for broad public benefit to proceed primarily for the private commercial gain of a single corporation fundamentally undermines Oregon’s constitutional requirements for eminent domain,” said Jim Kreider, an environmental activist from La Grande who co-chairs the coalition with Gilbert. “This is an unjustified taking of public property under private pretenses.” What’s more, Kreider and Gilbert said, PacifiCorp knew it would not be able to serve Oregon customers with power from the line months before it applied for the certificate from state regulators. They said BPA had notified PacifiCorp in October 2022 about the delays, yet the company failed to disclose that information to regulators and applied for the certificate claiming the line would benefit hundreds of thousands of residents. Other advocacy groups – including the Sierra Club, Mobilizing Climate Action Together, Renewable Northwest and the Northwest Energy Coalition – that support grid expansion in the region to advance the state’s climate goals told regulators they were also frustrated that the B2H line may not be used as it was intended and justified by the state-issued certificate. The line, ​​now under construction after two decades of reviews and lawsuits, will be among the largest and one of the few transmission projects built in the Pacific Northwest in recent years – despite a severe shortage of transmission capacity in the region and a growing backlog of renewable energy projects waiting to connect to the grid. The groups maintain that the certificate was premised upon the transmission line’s “broad public benefits, not the needs of a single private entity.” Allowing PacifiCorp to change course would “violate the spirit and legal framework under which the line was approved by this commission,” Alex Houston, an attorney with the Green Energy Institute who represents the groups, told commissioners. It would also “harm Oregon customers and set a dangerous precedent wherein the justifications supporting issuance of a certificate may summarily be disregarded once the utility gets approval,” he said. Instead of revoking the certificate, Houston asked the commission to enforce it, including by issuing financial penalties of up to $10,000 for each day PacifiCorp fails to comply. The commission did not take up the suggestion. Commissioners said the line was still needed, that the shift in use was part of the planning process, and that the line might still serve more Oregon customers in the future. “A transmission line is built with one vision in mind, and as the world evolves, it gets used in a multitude of ways across the timeframe that it’s on the landscape,” said commission chair Letha Tawney. Kim Herb, the agency’s utility strategy and planning manager, admitted that staff were concerned with PacifiCorp’s lack of transparency, but said that didn’t justify revoking the certificate. The company’s change of plans isn’t conclusive, she added, and “serving even one large customer may still meet the statutory standard for public use.”In addition, Herb said, Idaho Power had shown the need for additional transmission capacity to serve its electricity load and maintain grid reliability, which satisfied the line’s public use criteria. Idaho Power serves only about 20,000 Oregon customers. Those customers live in a part of the state that has seen neither growth in the number of residents nor an increase in their energy demand, aside from the data centers moving in. Gilbert argued the utilities have inflated the energy need and that data center operators might opt for local or on-site energy solutions—such as microgrids capable of operating independently from the traditional grid—rather than relying on costly transmission lines and enduring long interconnection delays. Data centers have already adopted or proposed similar strategies in other states, including battery storage, natural gas turbines and even small modular nuclear reactors.If that were to happen, residential customers would be stuck paying for the cost of B2H, she said. “It’s basically setting up a situation where it’s questionable whether the projections regarding the number of large users are actually going to occur. So who will end up paying for these are the residents” Gilbert said. Idaho Power launched construction on the B2H line this summer, cutting several access roads and laying foundations for 100 of the 1,200-plus transmission towers planned in Morrow and Malheur counties. The plan to finish the line in 2027 is still on track. Jocelyn Pease, an attorney who represents Idaho Power, told commissioners the utility has obtained 95% of the access rights to begin construction. PacifiCorp attorney Zach Rogala said the utility might still serve Oregon customers “if we’re successful in securing transmission rights in the future.”If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.

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